So I’m basically writing this post with my eyes closed. I’m so tired. I’m beyond fatigued. “Lethargic” does a decent job of trying to describe how I feel, but I’d say I’m completely enervated. I’m burnt out in all avenues.
I barely feel like saying good morning to people these days. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m still full of BDE as the AFFIRMATION OF THE WEEK suggested, but I’m directing the full metaphorical erection to you guys, the blog readers.
So in the spirit of content providing, I’m going to tell you a quick story about me.
As a kid, I was pretty afraid. I was afraid of the dark. I was afraid of being alone. I was afraid that I was the only actual human and everyone else were aliens or simulations being used to keep me in a human zoo. I was quite a little bitch.
I used to have so many nightmares. I remember one in particular from when I was about 7 years old. In my dream, I was walking around my home in the middle of the night and I made my way to my parents room. My mother was sitting on her bed, reading her bible. She didn’t notice me until I called out to her. Instead of the loving embrace my real mother would bestow on me, I received a cold, scornful look, followed by a display of sharp vampire fangs. My mother dropped her bible on the floor and immediately pounced at me, ready to drain her “golden child” of all his blood. It was pretty intense.
My nightmares weren’t confined to my single digit age. I remember having them around the age of seventeen also. One in particular saw me meet a creature in my bedroom that went by the name Cyprus. Cyprus favored my brother from a distance, but up close his body was greatly elongated, showing bone and flesh around his joints. He would get real close to me, as if he was studying me, trying to understand what made me different from him. He never hurt me or even attempted, he was just so damn creepy. And when his studies were complete, he’d go into the wall near my bedroom door. I spent countless days checking that wall to see if my dreams had any truth to them.
My childhood was dark. Not dark as in, I had the same life altering events of Bruce Wayne (Batman) or something, but dark as in I spent most of it being afraid of my own shadow.
It wasn’t until I was an adult, mid twenties, that I realized just how awesome a nightmare could be. I suppose I’m twisted to an extent, because now I find myself trying to find the ghouls and goblins within my dreams. I want to see them. I want to study them. I want an update of Cyprus’s experiments.
Steven King once claimed that every single idea that he has put into a book, first came to him in a dream. And that cat has some pretty twisted stories! But he was on to something. Some of the stuff I’ve seen behind my eyelids could make some interesting tales if I put them on paper. Who am I kidding, we both know they’ll make it on paper eventually.
When my mind goes dark on me, I find it’s helpful to go ahead and go pitch black. Those who bet on black, always win, most of the time…lol.
“‘N’ is for no survivors…” — Sheldon Plankton